Against the Blackness
by Tara Phoenix
Summary: Silas was not always a follower of the church. What happened when he was homeless at the docks of Marseille? Silas/OC rated T just in case. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Okay before a mob forms to come after me let me set a couple things straight. I based this off of the movie more so than the book. I love both the movie and the book. I know there is a huge problem with Silas's name because he got it after he went to jail then broke out and joined the church, but I love the name so I decided to use it in my story despite him being a teen here. Don't like that don't read the story :) For everyone else please enjoy :) **

* * *

"Don't wonder off now Clair," her father had said. She sat looking at the water. It was such a dump at the docks. Why was it that the filth of the city gravitated towards the water? Clair sighed wishing her father would hurry up and finish bargaining with the dockworkers. She couldn't understand why he would do such a task himself on the grey morning when normally he sent one of his underlings to do so.

She stood and walked for a little while trying to get away from the sound of the men arguing. Groups of homeless youth stared at her with big hungry eyes from the dark cubbies along the dock. Her breath fell in little foggy puffs, as she kept moving not wanting to cause trouble.

Eventually she came to a stop in front of an old abandoned factory. It's windows had been busted out by storms long since past and the doors swung aimlessly back and forth, banging shut before creaking open again. Something inside that place called to her and she went forward slowly.

Inside it was dim and she looked around at the ruin wondering what had once taken place. "What are you doing here?" a voice asked. She spun startled and looked at a boy. She froze petrified by him. Another homeless young man probably her age, but he was white as a ghost instead of flesh colored. His clothes were dirty in contrast to his white hair. Clair started to stumble backwards but couldn't move when her eyes met with his. They were a the palest gray she had ever seen. "I said what are you doing here?" he snapped again.

She shook her head trying to get words out of her mouth, but they snagged in her throat. She had seen albinos before, but never up close and none of them had had this boy's eyes. All of their eyes had been an ugly red making them look like demons. This boy however looked beautiful despite his gaunt face and slim frame.

"I'm sorry, I did – I didn't mean to intrude. I was just walking and I – I ended up in here," she stuttered trying not to stare.

"You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous. Go back to where ever you came from," he said less aggressively. She relaxed a little.

"Is this where you live?" she asked without thinking. He had started to turn and go, but her question made him look back.

"Why does it matter?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I just… it seems so loud," she shrugged looking for an answer of her own. He cocked his head to the side studying her more curiously.

"Loud?" he asked. She swallowed hard feeling uneasy under his gaze.

"Yeah, the wind, and the doors… and all the noise outside. How do you ever sleep?" she asked not meaning to seem rude, but all the sounds of this place mixed together to cause a steady rush of noise. He looked away at her.

"Music," he said holding out his hands gesturing to the world around them. His voice was low and dry, but it seemed to sing to her as he uttered the single word. He moved forward until he was very close to her. Despite feeling uncomfortable she didn't move as he circled her. "It sings to me. If you listen long enough you'll find the beat," he said.

"Clair!" her father's voice rang out from outside the factory. The boy jumped looking like a frightened animal.

"That's my father," she said. He looked at her with his grey eyes.

"You should go back to whatever world you came from," he said slowly.

"My name is Clair," she said without reason. He looked at her puzzled.

"Clair!" her father shouted again. The boy said nothing more before he walked away into the shadows of the factory. "Clair!" her father was angry she could tell by the sound of his shouts. She ran to the doorway and looked back hoping to catch one last glimpse of the ghost boy, but he had disappeared. Clair ran outside to her father.

* * *

It had been a week and when her father woke early to go down to the docks Clair rose and went with him. Over one shoulder she carried a back pack and when her father began bargaining with the dockworkers she immediately slipped away and ran for the factory where she had seen the ghost boy.

All week his eyes had haunted her and she wanted to see him again. Slowly she pushed open the door to the factory and peeked in. Seeing no one she entered. "Hello?" she called looking around.

"You came back," he sighed emerging from shadows. She spun around again startled. "Why?" he asked.

"I thought you might want these," she said motioning to the backpack. He seemed suspicious but took a step closer.

"Clair?" he asked sounding like he wasn't used to using his own voice.

"Yeah," she nodded. He took another step closed. She opened the backpack and took out the clean set of clothes she had taken from her brother's old room. He'd gone to collage the year before and left most of his things behind.

"I don't need your charity," the boy said looking at her with mistrust. She stopped and put the clothes back in.

"It's not charity, I mean, obviously you can fend for yourself. I just thought you might take these in trade for teaching me to hear the music here," she said thinking fast for an excuse because in truth it was charity. She felt bad for the boy. Maybe it was just his naturally pale color deceiving her, but he looked cold.

"That's not something I can teach," he said. She bit her lip.

"Then I'll trade this to you for your name," she said. He looked surprised. For a moment he hesitated then, as he was about to speak again her father's voice bellowed down the dock.

"Clair!" he shouted. The boy looked out.

"Your father is getting better at bartering," he observed. She looked at him. "Go home Clair, don't come back here again. You don't belong in this place," he said sensing that the girl was somehow intrigued by life at the docks. He walked away again. Clair sighed and left the bag where it set as she returned to her father.

* * *

Another week past and her father once again went to the dock to do the weekly trading for his restaurant. Clair went with him, but this time took nothing for the ghost boy. She didn't go to the factory, but instead walked along the waters edge watching the scummy foam wash against the wood docks. She had a few loose coins in her pocket and tossed them to the children of the docks causing a stir.

The boy appeared suddenly without warning. He was wearing her brother's clothes making him look much cleaner. "Clair," he said once again sounding like his voice was almost out of his control.

"Hello," she smiled happy to see he had used what she had given him.

"I know what I can trade to you," he said as his voice cracked a little. She looked at him confused as he handed her a piece of paper. It was crumpled and folded, but when she unfolded it she gasped a little. Her own face was staring back up at her. She stood in the middle of the factory occupying a beam of light that came from a broken window. The grey of the pencil showed amazing depth.

Clair looked back up at the boy. "You did this?" she asked. He wouldn't look at her and became fixated on a point somewhere in the water.

"Yes," he replied.

"This is amazing," she said looking back at the picture.

"But worthless all the same. A drawing won't keep you fed," he sighed.

"Are you crazy? Artists can sell their work. Many people make a living that way," she said. He smiled slightly for the first time. Even his lips were pale as they pulled back blending into his teeth. He shook his head.

"If only you knew this world," he sighed.

"So teach me," she said. He looked at her.

"Look at me," he said sounding as if she should know something about him because of his skin.

"I am and I don't see anything wrong with you," she said. He shook his head again as if frustrated.

"I live on the docks," he said sounding like she should know what he was getting at. "You don't. You have a family and you can obviously afford to buy fish while I steal them to live," he said looking at her.

"That doesn't really mean anything," she shrugged shaking her head. He wrinkled his brow as if it were a new idea. "Why are you so afraid of me?" she asked genuinely suspecting he was afraid.

"I'm not afraid of you, I'm confused by you. You can come and go wherever you like yet you keep coming back here. Why?" he asked. She chuckled earning another confused look from the boy.

"Because you confuse me," she said. He bowed his head. "Here," she said holding out some money. He looked at it shaking his head.

"No, no I can't," he said sounding almost scared.

"Take it," she said pushing it into one of his hands. "Buy some more paper and pencils. You're gifted no matter your circumstance, and that shouldn't go unnoticed," she said holding his hand as if to keep the money in his palm. He looked at her with his mouth open as if to talk but no words would come. She let go of him. "I won't come back if you don't want me to," she added.

The boy didn't answer and looked away back to the water. She turned to leave knowing her father would be done soon. "I'd like to see you again," he said. She stopped and turned back to him.

"I'll be back in a week then," she smiled.

* * *

Clair ran down the dock carrying a thermos of soup she had heated just before they left the house. She had to hide it in her coat during the drive because her father had told her a hundred times not to meddle with the homeless. The burn on her side and his warnings did nothing to deter her.

The ghost boy was sitting on a box in the factory when she arrived. "Hi," she said.

"Here," he said holding out a stack of paper. She took them and handed him the thermos.

"Go ahead," she said as he looked at it as if asking her what to do. She leafed through the pictures as he opened the thermos and sipped from it. The soup felt like an explosion on his tongue. It had been ages since he had eaten something so warm. He drank the soup fast feeling the warmth gather in his stomach. "These are amazing," she said. He looked up.

"Keep them. I can't use them," he said.

"I bet I could sell them," she said. He laughed half-heartedly. "I'm serious," she said. The door slammed and she jumped.

"There's your beat," he said handing the thermos back to her. He smiled more genuinely and stood. He came closer to her and she noted that he had to look down at her slightly. His grey eyes studied her. "If you can sell that and bring me proof. I'll tell you my name," he said. She gave him a crooked smile.

"Deal," she said as she started to go placing the pictured under her coat carefully so as not to bend them. He caught her arm.

"But if you can't. You'll promise to stay away from the docks," he said. She looked at him wondering why he insisted on her staying away. "Something so beautiful shouldn't be here," he said as if reading her thoughts. She smiled and touched him lightly on the cheek with her hand.

"I'll see you in a week," she said. He had frozen at her touch and could only watch as she left.

* * *

The week passed slowly for Clair. She sold the boy's pictures and took photos of them hanging on the walls as well as keeping the receipts. The days drug on each seeming longer than the last until finally it was time again to go to the docks. "Why do you keep coming to the docks with me Clair?" her father asked in the car. Her stomach lurched.

"I like watching the water," she lied. He chuckled thinking her a silly girl and didn't ask her anymore. She slipped away unnoticed like always.

When the ghost boy appeared from an alleyway she almost shouted, but stifled the yelp with her hand. He folded his arms across his chest. "I take it you sold them since you came back," he sighed.

"Yeah," she said offering her proof. He nodded looking at it without interest.

"My name is Silas," he said.

"Silas," she repeated. He handed the photos and receipts back. "Well, Silas, here is your hard earned money," she said offering him his earnings. He looked at it and shook his head.

"You paid for the paper and you sold them. That's yours," he said.

"Then we'll split it," she suggested and handed him half. "I sold them at half price, but the man was a friend of mine who runs a hotel and he said he would take fifty more just like them," she said. Silas looked at her startled.

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask. She nodded. He shook his head becoming afraid. "No Clair… this… this is too much. You don't know me," he said in a voice just above a whisper. "You just don't-" she stopped him.

"Silas, I'm not afraid of you," she said. He looked away from her and she could tell in that moment that he was carrying pain and grief. "I want to be your friend. I don't care about where you live or how you look," she said reaching out and taking one of his pale hands. He seemed startled by the contact and drew away. "Please, you don't have to be afraid of me" she added. He let out a long breath and his hand closed around hers.

"I want to draw you again, but this time I want you to model for me, so I can get your face right," he said slowly.

"My father won't let me come here alone," she said.

"I'll meet you somewhere," he suggested.

"There's a park near my house she suggested. You can take a bus," she replied. He looked her directly in the eye for the first time since she had arrived.

"If I draw and you sell, and we split the profit down the middle, I'll come," he said. She nodded and he dropped her hand. Quickly she wrote down directions before her father started to below for her.

"I'll meet you near the benches just after the bell tolls three tomorrow," she said as she walked away. He watched until she disappeared then returned to his hideaway in the factory.

All night Silas lay awake thinking of her. She seemed like magic. All of a sudden he felt like more than a filthy thief. The darkness of his past seemed to be dimmed by the brightness of her presence.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Please review :)**

**I own nothing.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Clair sat on the bench looking in every direction, but she didn't see him. She checked her watch. It was already half past three and still no Silas. Just as she was about to give up he appeared, walking briskly towards her. She stood to greet him but he kept moving. "What's wrong?" she asked noting how panicked he looked.

"Can we find somewhere more private?" he asked. She gave him a puzzled look. "People are staring at me," he whispered. She looked around realizing the elderly people walking about were giving some stares at him.

"Come on, I know a place we can be alone," she said leading him into a grove of bushes and trees. "It's a more picturesque place any way," she smiled sitting down on a stone bench. He took his tools from the bag she had given him and sat down on the grass.

"You'll forgive how late I was I hope," he said. She nodded. "It's been a very long time since I've ridden on a bus. Lift your chin," he said switching topics seamlessly. She lifted her chin. For a long time after they didn't speak. He sketched in silence and she became fixated on a point in the trees around them. Clair didn't even breathe hardly because she wanted to be so still, but at last she couldn't bear the silence.

"Since we're business partners now if I were to ask your story would you tell me?" she asked him.

"No," he replied not looking up.

"Why not?" she asked. He looked up at her briefly then back down to the sketch.

"I'd rather her about you," he replied. She couldn't hold a laugh.

"I could put you to sleep," she said.

"How would you know what bores me and what I find interesting?" he asked. She bit her lip regaining her pose.

"Well, my Dad owns a restaurant. My mom died when I was small. I ride a bus every morning to school. I live about five minutes from here in an apartment on the second floor of an old building," she said trying to hit all the obvious topics.

"What is your school like?" he asked.

"Busy, miserable," she said thoughtfully. "I have an literature teacher that I'm at odds with, but other than that school isn't too bad I guess," she said.

"You moved again," he said looking up. She posed again finding it hard not to look straight at him. "It's been a really long time since I've talked this much with someone," he sighed.

"You hardly talk at all," she chuckled.

"Well, then that will tell you how I spend my time won't it? I can't expect you to understand," he said rather bitterly. She looked at him again afraid that he was angry.

"Why, because you look different than the rest of those kids at the dock? Is that why you don't speak?" she asked. He didn't look up from his picture. She stood up and sat in the grass beside him. "Will you just talk to me," she said getting worried.

"Have you ever truly been different Clair?" he snapped looking up finally. "Look at me! All my life I've been called a ghost. The others won't speak to me or let me into their hideaways, because of my skin. You can't understand that," he said harshly.

"When I was little I had no friends because my mother died of leprosy," she said after a long pause. "Everyone called me the lepers daughter and thought I had it too," she added. Silas was quiet.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to pry," she sighed.

"What's to pry? Everyone can see it just by looking at me. At least you can hide it," he said. She slipped her hand over his.

"You should be proud of yourself. You're unique," she said hopefully. He shook his head slightly before showing her the picture. She looked at herself only half drawn on the page. It made he look like she was fading away. "You are gifted," she said looking at it.

"But people don't hire freaks," he said.

"And they also can't tell the color of an artist skin by what he draws," she said gently. He looked as though he might cry for a moment before he closed the notebook and stood up.

"I think that's enough for today," he said. She stood and brushed her pants off.

"Will you walk me home?" she asked. He shook his head.

"That's not a good idea," he said. She nodded.

"When will I see you again?" she asked.

"Come with your father next week. I'll have some new pictures for you to sell," he said shouldering the backpack.

"Okay," she said and before he could react she hugged him. "See you in a week," she said as she walked out of the grove. Silas stood mouth agape. She was just confusing.

* * *

The week passed and as promised she came with her father. Silas was waiting in the factory when she arrived. He smiled happy to see her, but for some reason there was no cheer on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she shook her head. He looked at her with his penetrating gray eyes. "You have the pictures?" she asked. He handed over a stack. She nodded. "Them right away," she said not bothering to look though them.

"What's wrong?" he demanded more than asked this time. She sighed.

"Dad told me we might lose the business," she sighed. His expression changed.

She couldn't bear to explain the ins and outs of it to him at the moment so Clair turned away. "I'll see you in a week," she sighed and walked away.

"Meet me in the park tomorrow evening," he called. She stopped and looked back.

"I can't I have schoolwork," she sighed.

"You can do it while I sketch you," he offered. She smiled slightly and shook her head.

"Okay, same as last time," she said.

* * *

Silas looked round nervously. She still hadn't shown up and the bells had tolled some time ago. He sighed when she appeared. "Sorry I'm late I had trouble getting out of the house," she sighed.

"It's fine," he replied. She still looked worried. "No better today?" he asked. She shook her head.

"We don't have money for payment this month," she sighed. He felt bad and wished he could comfort her. "Anyway, I have geometry," she sighed holding up her heavy book bag. He looked at it wondering what horror geometry was. He hadn't been in school since he was seven.

"Right, you do that and I'll do this," he said holding up his own bag. She smiled and stretched out in the grass on her belly pulling out the textbook. He took his sketch pad and started to copy down her figure.

Almost an hour passed before she sighed and moved a little. "Done," she groaned.

"Hold it don't move!" he said and she froze. "I'm almost there just a little longer," he said focusing on her work. She tried to remain still, but failed until finally he dismissed her. She stood up and stretched as he got up and admired his picture. She looked at it and smiled.

"You are the only one on earth who can make me look that good," she laughed. He tore it out of the book and gave the picture to her.

"You do make a lousy model though," he smiled collapsing back into the soft grass. He stretched out after having been hunched over for so long.

"Yeah I know I can't sit still," she replied joining him. He looked at the geometry on the page.

"Oh my god how do you make sense of that?" he asked looking at the strange markings.

"I don't I guess for the most part," she laughed lying down. He looked over noting the smile on her lips.

"You look happier," he said cocking his head to one side. She grinned.

"I feel happier, I don't know what it is about being with you," she said.

"Because we just spent an hour in silence," he added stretching out beside her. They gazed up at the blue sky.

"I don't know. There isn't anything we need to say to each other," she smiled. He furrowed his brow.

"There's nothing you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Oh sure there are plenty of things to talk about, but there isn't anything we have to say to each other. We're friends and we're partners and we know almost nothing about each other," she laughed. "Oh, my dad would kill me," she sighed with an amused smile.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you are a boy," she replied looking over at him.

"Oh I would threaten him?" he smiled amused. Silas had never had much to do with girls, but he was no fool. In truth if he were Clair's father he would worry too. She was very pretty.

"Yeah," she chuckled.

"And you don't already have a guy?" he asked. She sighed,

"I haven't found mister right yet," she replied. Silas felt his cheeks flush. "Why?" she asked.

"No reason… isn't this what friends do? Get to know one another?" he asked.

"Yes they do," she nodded feeling happier. "Tell me something. Why do you put up with me?" she asked. He looked confused. "You didn't seem like you wanted anyone in your life, and now I'm dragging you up here every week," she sighed. He looked thoughtful.

"I've never had a friend," he said propping himself up on one elbow. "When you look at me you aren't worried by my appearance. You're the first person I've met who does that," he said honestly. She smiled and matched his pose.

"Never judge a book by its cover," she whispered. He smirked. "What?" she asked. He reached out and captured and ant that was tangled in her blond hair. She blushed and he let the insect back into the grass. She sighed and looked at the watch on her wrist. "I should head back," she sighed.

Clair stood up and began collecting her things as while he remained sprawled out in the grass. "How much is payment on your restaurant?" he asked absently. She frowned. "How much do we make from the drawings?"

"Oh please don't go down that road," she sighed.

"No, is it enough?" he asked sitting up. She looked at him for a moment.

"I don't know," she shook her head. " I don't even know if I can sell the drawings," she sighed.

"Well if you can, keep the money and put it towards your restaurant," he said getting up. She almost cried at his kindness.

"Walk me home?" she asked. He hesitated, but grabbed his things and slung his bag over his shoulder.

They walked down the sidewalk talking about mundane things. For the first time in forever the people who stared at him didn't bother Silas. They reached her apartment building and she hugged him goodbye before going inside.

Silas walked to the docks that evening feeling like a million. The company of another was doing wonders for him and he couldn't wait to see her again.

* * *

**Please Review and thanks for reading  
**

**and feel free to check out my other fics :)**

**I own nothing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm glad that you all are enjoying the story :)**

**I own nothing  
**

* * *

Clair sprinted down the street. A car almost hit her as she crossed the street and ran into the park. "Silas! Silas!" she squealed. He stood up from the stone bench just in time for her to throw her arms around his shoulders. She laughed with delight. "Silas! The bank gave him a loan!" she said.

Hesitantly he put his arms around her. "What?" he asked.

"The bank gave us a loan! We're going to keep the shop!" she exclaimed stepping back.

"What? That's wonderful!" he replied laughing. She hugged him again and on an impulse he imitated what he had seen a dockworker do with his wife. He grabbed her at the waist and lifted her off the ground spinning her around.

When Silas put her down she laughed. "I didn't even tell you the best part," she said.

"What's the best part?" he asked.

"I sold every one of the drawings! I made over two hundred!" she said. His eyes went wide.

"You kidding!" he exclaimed. She laughed hugging him again as he hugged her back. "I can't believe this!"

"I know! I know! This is going to change everything!" she said. He set her down.

"How?" he asked still smiling.

"Well, you know… two hundred is a lot of money… If we use it right we could start a whole new life for you!" she said enthusiastically. His smile faded.

"Say what now?" he said.

"You know, rent an apartment or something, get you a fresh go at life," she said. He looked at her with a grave face.

"When did we decide this?" he asked.

"What?" she replied as her smile started to fade.

"Clair this isn't the deal," he said.

"What do you mean this isn't the deal?" she asked.

"A hundred is yours a hundred is mine… but I don't need that much… and I don't need an apartment," he said.

"Well I just thought…" she shrugged.

"Thought what?" he snapped. "Thought poor little freak? Needs charity because he's such a waste?" he asked.

"No," she snapped going on the offensive. "I just wanted you to be happy. It's your money do what you like with it," she said. He turned his back in her. "Why do you act like this? Why do you always think the worst?" she asked.

"Because I have_ never_ had anyone who deserved to be thought of any differently," he replied.

"What will I have to do to prove that I'm not out to hurt you? What in gods name do I have to do before you'll just trust me," she asked. He wouldn't look at her.

"I can't… I can't afford it," he said.

"All this time you've been rejected… so you know how I feel right now," she said before turning to flee. She stopped. "Here, take it, you earned it," she said throwing the money on the ground before running off.

***

Clair stayed in her room all evening. Her father couldn't coax her out and after a while he gave up. It was past midnight when she heard a tap on her window. She went over and pulled the curtains open.

Silas was standing like a ghost in the middle of the street. "Clair you should come down," he said.

"Why? So you can accuse me again?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I want to show you something."

"What?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he replied.

"No thank you I don't like surprises," she said.

"Then why don't we go somewhere you want to go?" he suggested.

"Because you wouldn't enjoy it," she replied.

"How do you know?" he asked. She just folded her arms. "Clair, I'm sorry. I acted foolishly," he said. She rolled her eyes. "I bought you an apology gift," he said. She looked down just in time to catch a box he tossed up. "Open it," he said. She unwrapped the bow and opened the box.

"Oh…" she couldn't form words.

"You should have seen the look the man in the store gave me," he said. She pulled out the necklace. A locket hung on the bottom of a golden chain. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful Silas," she said putting it on.

"You were right Clair… I know I was stupid… and I do trust you… I know an angle could never hurt me," he said. She grinned.

"You're sweet," she said.

"Will you come down now?" he asked.

"I can't," she shook her head. "I have school tomorrow."

"Oh," he said. "Well… The park then?" he asked.

"Sure," she smiled.

"Same time?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Goodnight then," he said.

"Goodnight Silas," she smiled. She drew the curtains and went back to bed, but had trouble sleeping because she kept handling the necklace.

***

Silas waited patiently, sketching some birds while he waited in the secluded part of the park. Clair's footsteps alerted him to her coming and he stood up. "Hi," she smiled hugging him.

"Hi," he replied savoring the contact. "How was school?" he asked.

"Boring and long," she replied.

"How do you want to pose today?" he asked.

"Actually I was thinking we wouldn't do a sketch today. I was thinking maybe we would go out instead," she said. He froze.

"Out?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I was thinking maybe some shopping then dinner. Daddy is going to be late tonight, so I don't have to be home early," she said. He shook his head a little.

"I'm not sure," he said. She folded her arms.

"Why not?" she asked softly.

"I won't know how to act among 'civilized' people," he sighed bowing his head.

"Oh, you'll have to come up with something better than that," she smiled.

"People will stare," he said.

"You went into a shop to get my necklace," she said.

"Yeah, but it was after dark. Just the shop keep saw me… and if it hadn't been for the money in my hand he never would have dealt with me," Silas said.

"What do you care if they look at you?" she asked.

"Well, what about you? How will it look if you're seen with me?" he sighed.

"I'll look very proud," she replied taking his hand. "Please?" he sighed and smiled a little.

"Okay," he replied.

***

Silas had been nervous at first. People did indeed stare and whisper, but as time went the murmurs seemed to disappear and all he could focus on was Clair. They went in shop after shop. Neither bought a thing, but they had a good time dallying about.

She tried on some clothes for him, and he peeked behind the covers of some books in an old shop. "That's a good read," she said absently.

"What is it?" he asked picking up the worn out book.

"What do you mean? It's the Count of Monte Cristo," she said.

"What's it about?" he asked.

"You've never read it?" she asked.

"I've never read anything," he replied putting it back down.

"You can't read?" she whispered keeping her voice down to match the volume of the rest of the shop.

"No," he replied. She cocked her head.

"Well we can't have that," she said.

"Don't say you'll teach me," he smiled.

"I'm going to teach you," she laughed. He grinned.

"You shouldn't waste your time," he said softly.

"I won't," she replied smiling fondly as she traced her hand over the book.

***

"Here try this," she said holding out the fork with a bite of pork on the end. Silas and Clair had decided to eat dinner at a small restaurant that was about as atmospheric as it could get. He hesitated looking at the bite on the end of _her_ fork. "It won't bite," she added. He leaned over and took the morsel.

"It's very good," he said chewing gratefully. Silas was trying to refrain from devouring the food like an animal although in fact he was still starving. He'd never had so much in one sitting, not even when he still had parents.

"How is yours?" she asked. He imitated her and offered a bite of lamb. She took it from him and smiled after she swallowed. "It's good."

"The other's down at the docks would kill for thing," he said as he bit into a roll.

"I'm sure," she replied. "You know, I'm still fascinated by that side of you," she said. He looked over the top of his glass.

"By what?" he asked.

"The wild side of you… you've learned to survive and… hear the music down there," she said. He gave a wry smile.

"There is no secret… you fight and try to find food enough to keep you out of deaths reach… you shouldn't be so fascinated by something so ugly," he said.

"But your drawings… they're so beautiful," she said. He just rolled his eyes. "They have to come from somewhere," she said. He smiled.

"Well… it isn't the docks," he sighed. She cocked her head.

"So," she breathed. "Was today so terrible?" she asked. He looked at her and gave a smile as he poked the meat on his plate.

"No," he replied. "It was good… but it's because you're here," he added then took another bite. She grinned.

"You want to split a desert?" she asked. He hesitated. "Have you ever eaten ice cream?" she asked.

"A long time ago," he replied. She motioned to the waiter.


End file.
